Duty & Dignity
by Dalek Warrior
Summary: After being injured in a battle against the Spanish frigate "Marie" Horatio is treated by none other than Archie. What happens when the duo come to realize they are linked through a person from their past? Quite a bit AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Duty & Dignity**

**Author's Note: When reading this keep in mind that I own none of the characters and have not finished reading all the Hornblower books, any event in here that did actually occur in the books is likely I just haven't read that particular book. I also do not know seamanship terms so just bear with me. The next chapter will be up soon, so until then please read and review, I have nothing against constructive criticism. **

**Chapter 1**

The force with which the impact had on him was astonishing. The weight bore upon him and with a struggle brought the lieutenant down from the upper deck to the lower shot range. He could not get his bearings about where the t'gallants were, let alone the Spanish frigate. He could have been laying for'rard from the poop deck for minutes it seemed before he felt the cold sea wind sting his open muscle. Blood was trailing from both his legs and a thin line of red led a thin tear in his shirt to allow him to stare at an elongated would along his upper left pectoral.

Galbraith was running for'rard him to the main mast where the captain stood awaiting any being to give orders. Horatio's solitary fourth lieutenant gave him a passing glance and then ran to receive his commands. Galbraith was never one to spare an emotion and his demeanor took more than a few judgments to mentally piece together, though he never thought him to be as so cold to leave a dying soul with no help or chance of living.

Pain was becoming increasingly hard to ignore and the salt water did nothing to help that. Hornblower constrained himself to silence while others were content to thrash about on the blood stained decks. Thoughts of suicide from his early days onboard the "Indefatigable" were suddenly brought to mind and the thought of suicide seemed rather serene compared to the agony he was enduring. He could only imagine the endless hours of the poor lads who would make it to be under Clive's unfortunate care.

The "Lydia's stern was raking the side of the "Marie" as the two ships clashed and the sudden clang together separated all men from their thoughts. Horatio tried to get up, tried to reach his cutlass, tried to stop the boarding Spaniards, but all to no avail. A passing Negro looked down upon him and almost a touch of sympathy seemed to issue from his aura.

Suddenly the voice of Galbraith was heard from the crew, his voice carried near to the fort mouth. "The colonel is dead, do you surrender?"

The clash of weapons hitting the deck reached Hornblower's mind before everything began to black out and he lost the strength to hold his head up. Sounds became vaguely distorted and seconds seemed to pass as hours. The pain in his legs and chest were overpowering his will to stay awake…alive. Voices were overheard and Styles was holding his head, fingers were prodding his neck for some time before he yelled "Mr. Hornblower's still alive, sir."

Footsteps echoed in the distance as Clive came up followed by Laurie the surgeon. A gasp emitted from Laurie's throat, what he thought was Laurie's he couldn't be sure, and he knew that he was on the lesser chance of living through the ordeal he was about to embark through.

A sudden slicing agony passed across his chest and it felt like he was the driftwood for a bonfire, the charcoal for the flames with which cooked the vitals for his men. His coat was being removed and every layer of clothing he had under and around it felt like a new realm of hell. What he had done to be damned surpassed him and the thought of why he had been led to imagine that wouldn't leave his fatigued mind.

"We're going to need to amputate his left leg, most likely his right as well. Do you agree Dr. Clive?" Laurie stated. He tried to talk of the needed sutures on his chest before Clive cut him off after seeing Horatio was still conscious.

"There'll be no need to talk over this matter while our patient is unstable and should be immediately moved to sick bay. Mr. Styles if you would please order a man to fetch the stretcher and a few to carry it?"

"Right away sir. Liftly. Warren. Get over here, and get Mr. Olden to fetch the stretcher from sick bay." Styles bellowed.

Liftly immediately saw Hornblower's misshapen body and nearly gagged at the hideous sight before him. Warren was stronger but the sight of your comrade, even if higher in rank, lying before you with the prospect of suffering, infection, ultimately death, laid out in front of him, was not the sight to be rejoicing over. Mr. Olden came to them with the stretcher and Laurie looked about Hornblower, searching for a safe way to carry him without causing as much pain as to induce shock.

"Lift his shoulders over to the stretcher; Liftly, Warren you to the right, we'll get the left. Careful to avoid his pectoral." Laurie continued to direct the men like their captain would until they heaved Hornblower's limp form onto the stretcher with Olden down with the sorry job of moving the bloody tangle of thin calves.

With one last motion he was settled on the stretcher and Olden and Warren carried him to life station where he was forced to drink a tot of rum awaiting the numbness which would hopefully null the pure agony he was about to receive. Horatio waited in patience, savoring the temporary pain to the lifelong throbs, which would surely echo through his bones. Three more stretchers were brought down and with the fourth Laurie and Clive came behind it. Clive's stride was brought to a stop at his cabinet and with him he brought an array of knives and restraints to Hornblower's bedside.

"I hope you've had your tot of rum." Clive drones monotonously.

"Yes, the future hours I will be spending down here are going to spent with those knives I'm sure." He gasped. At this point every breath he took was shallow and pained him from every angle.

"Yes, I'm sorry to say but your leg wounds are too drastic, your chest wound will be an easy heal and we will attend to as soon as we finish with the other surgeries. There will be short relief with which I am truly sorry." With that he set to work with the restraints and called two officers to hold him down.

He hooked two restraints to each of his arms and one on his upper legs. Clive went about sanitizing the knives whilst Laurie poured more rum than he could manage into Hornblower's mouth. Making it rather hard to breath.

Clive sat opposite Hornblower and without caution dug the serrated edge of his saw into his left leg. His abdomen reflexively jumped to the sky and the midshipmen were having hardships holding him down. The knife's cold edge fell flat against his exposed muscle and created such a tension that he would rather be shot and damned eternally twice fold than endure this "surgery".

His pulse was racing and the heat around him was the devil. Seawater and gunpowder were his enemies, fighting to infect his stumps of his legs with gangrene. His chest wound still open and one leg still being sawed at he had grown used to the pain, but utter torture was something one never grew used to, even after hours of it. He could not bring himself to scream or fight the calloused hands that kept him in pain. Nor could he tell Clive to spare others lives and spare him the pain by treating a different patient… leaving him to die. No, he would endure; he had always endured and would not stop on account of an injury, though a life changing injury it was nothing special and no reason for him to be spared the life of pain when others had not. Endurance was a game and none played it better than he, he would persistently fight until there was nothing to fight for. With war raging, there was a cause and the cause was one nobody could abandon and he would fight for that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Well, chapter 2 is now up, sorry that it's taking so long to get these posted. I'll try to post more consistently. So…please read.**

**Duty & Dignity Chapter 2**

The "Lydia" was just recently brought about and the twittering pipes of the boson's mates could be heard from below the gun deck. Days of wallowing in the misery of being helpless and being of no productivity had led Hornblower to near insanity. Along with the pain of his now crippled legs his chest felt as though a constant fire was lit and his rate of breathing was slowly declining. The twitter of pipes and the thought of being on the deck made the confinement of sickbay resemble that of an addict and his absence of whiskey.

The ship had been beaten up pretty good, the water-pumps were at constant work through day and night. Midshipmen were at a low stock due to the recent battle and those that were left took shifts with the bosun's mates and other crewmembers to unceasingly pump the water out of the slowly sinking ship. Two crewmembers were already in sickbay from injuries due to the relentless stress heaped upon their shoulders, literally. Hornblower could hear the necessary supplies for plugging the shot holes being loaded on board, the acrid smell of oakum filled his nostrils.

His chest had been deemed unimportant in the grand scheme of injuries and would only later be seen to once the serious injuries were taken care of. So for the moment his chest lay with a cut from shoulder to lower abdomen to mark the freckled skin. If gangrene set in then measures would be taken, though at that time they would be fruitless. Hornblower's weight had decreased exceedingly since the battle, considering the absence of his legs. Though even the constant pain he was in, it was no worse than that of his comrades'.

The pipes had died down and Hornblower settled to listen for signs of the ship making any turns, which would indicate their new orders, via his ship being of subordinate rank. All he could hear was the setting of an anchor, which was common for a period of stay with a captain when in foul weather; though for the time on a clear day it was slightly unusual. In fact this unnerved Horatio, whose steel clad nerves never frayed from a foul gale to that of his father's death or that of a captain's.

A bought of coughs brought Horatio to a sudden upright position and Clive came rushing toward him. He could not catch his breath and Laurie was showing evident signs of stress on his face when he joined Clive to help initiate respiratory assistance.

"I need a syringe fast. And make it a clean one." Clive yelled adamantly.

Laurie came rushing around to Horatio's left and handed Clive the needle, who hurriedly yelled to Hornblower to lay down and temporarily hold his breath. Clive jabbed the needle straight through the skin and muscle right into his left lung. With a gasp Horatio felt cold air sting his lungs; trying to fill as much space as possible surrounding the needle, which still protruded from his bare chest. A trail of blood followed the puncture site and a wave of pain and nausea passed through his body, though he kept his dignity intact. Clive quickly and as possibly inhumane jerked the syringe from his torso. The heave of his chest at the intake of air had worked its horror on his cut and Laurie sterilized the area as best he could before leaving him in danger of another terrible epidemic.

"We need to transfer Mr. Hornblower, Mr. Chase, and at least a few more to our ship for the time being to treat them. Like it or not our medical knowledge and supplies are vastly superior and your men need the treatment." The "Atropos" medical officer was arguing.

"I find no problem in that as long as the men are returned to us at the next rendezvous or left at Plymouth for other deployment upon the clearance of their health. Do you have any objection Dr. Clive?" The captain asked of the incompetent doctor.

"No sir, though I do wonder if it not best for the men to take extra recovery time here and then assist us in labors, versus the loss of them altogether."

"Your comment is dually noted Dr. Clive, though I do inform you that the officers will be transferred due to the mismanagement of their health status."

"If you don't mind sir I would like to take a look at the patients before their transfer?" The "Atropos" officer asked.

"Very well. Mr. Clive you will lead Mr. Kennedy down to sickbay and inform him of the status of our officers. And on another note I hope to see you again and our officers well."

The captain finished and with that shook hands with the foreign officer and bid him a safe voyage.

As the captain's feet turned on their heels and his coattails whipped the doorway, Dr. Kennedy eyed Dr. Clive for the nuisance he had been during their talk with Captain Morris. An apprehensive chortle from Clive's throat and a hand issued in a westerly way, stated the best direction to sickbay. Kennedy turned in that direction, intent upon not relinquishing an ounce of his self-preservation to talk to the fool who most likely killed savable medical cases. How the moron could not keep a serious chest wound like that of Mr. Hornblower's ahead of a minor burn like that of Mr. Dusge evaded his mind.

They were near sickbay, from the sounds issued around the corner, to his right fiddle music was to be heard, while to his for'rard and left there was silence with the occasionally groan. Rounding the corner into sickbay was always the worst part of his job, for it shows the pain that was taken and how silently and intently the patients deal with it, all in a glance. While taking a swift look, trying to cock himself up for the tasks ahead, he noticed what he thought was Mr. Hornblower, judging by the lacerated chest, doubled over in pain with no one helping the poor man breathe.

He thought quickly; a collapsed lung was likely, maybe an infection finishing him off, no that wouldn't prevent him breathing, unless the idiot doctor's assistant hadn't properly informed him of the condition of Mr. Hornblower. Nearly running, but keeping even strides, Dr. Kennedy quickly made his way to Hornblower's side and immediately noticed an unhealed scar on his chest over the left lung. The scar being so fresh on the pale man's skin indicated the lung had recently collapsed. How the man had went for as long as their discussion with the captain was miraculous, without the necessary tube into his lung there was no way for it to properly inflate and keep its shape. For god's sake the doctor had better have used a clean syringe or the man's life was as good as gone.

"Laurie, get an syringe and a scalpel. Now." Dr. Kennedy urged the insolent young man.

"Why in god's name do you need a scalpel Mr. Kennedy? And can I remind you that for this minute the patient is in my care."

"Gods damn you, you bastard. The patient is in respiratory arrest and you are playing mind games. And may you care to call me Dr., unlike you who deserve no title, considering the petty role you play in saving men of the navy's lives." Kennedy backfired, in turn quieting the doctor for the time.

The scalpel and syringe had arrived and Kennedy grabbed the tools from Laurie and knelt beside Horatio. No scent of gangrene filled his nose and it strangely comforted the doctor to know the patient wasn't in as much pain as possible.

"Mr. Hornblower, your lung has collapsed once again. I will have to do a somewhat invasive procedure to correct this. Unlike the procedure Dr. Clive performed this one will hurt a great deal. I will cut into your lung then insert a tube to re inflate the area that has collapsed, in a few days I will remove the tube. After that your lung will most probably be fine the rest of your life." Hornblower showed no resistance nor barely any attention to the words Kennedy spoke to him.

"Laurie, I need a four millimeter tube, clear."

"Mr. Hornblower, I'm going to start now, please lie back down." Though that idea made a quiver appear between the man's brows, he followed the order.

Kennedy slowly took the scalpel and with his forefinger pressed around the skin covering the lung to find and insertion point. Hornblower's skin was hot to the touch and he was obviously fighting an infection, lest it not be an early stage of gangrene that one cannot smell. With one last trace of the young man's naked flesh he placed the scalpel on his chest and instantaneously drew a line of red. Camouflage against the rest of the man's scar peppered body.

The scalpel was placed on the bed sheet and picked up by the obedient Laurie. Kenned picked up the slim tube apprehensively and then without a second…eighth thought he inserted the tube down into Horatio's lung and heard the man take a long needed breath. Unused to the pain a moan escaped Hornblower's throat before he restrained himself. By now the man was lucky to be alive, the amount of time he had went without air was unknown. Nor did he think anyone knew; Laurie was oblivious, Clive was gone, and Hornblower by now had probably lost all sense of time.

He searched about for some bandages and then set to work bandaging the tube to Hornblower's heaving chest. The man would soon be in his care, would soon be the most critical case he had had in months. Soon a day of reckoning was going to come to him and he hoped to god that it wouldn't be Hornblower who the reckoning would target.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Sorry to all for the longer than usual waiting time for this chapter. I know that it is rather short but By July I will try to have the next chapter up….don't hold me to it though. **

**Duty & Dignity Chapter 3**

Bandaging the man's chest was quite a difficult task. Mr. Hornblower was in such a dire need of air that his chest wouldn't lay still for him to bandage the tube without damaging the lung tissue. It seemed as though he was trying to be still but was losing the battle against his body. This man's life was hanging in the gallows; awaiting the inevitable pull that would suffocate and murder him. Blood continually leaked from the puncture site and Kennedy would finally get the bandage right and have to redo if again. The one thing he would give to Clive was that his help knew how to bandage mighty well.

Mr. Kennedy finally finished and had to return to the "Atropos", after quickly calculating the risk of hoisting the stretcher in with tackles or carrying it over a plank, left instructions for Clive on Mr. Hornblower's new health issues. Horatio would now need anti-infection meds and to have his wounds cleaned at least three times a day. With one last look Kennedy glanced over Hornblower and prayed the entire way in the longboat back to the "Atropos".

His chest hurt like hell. Barely a breath had made it into his lungs in the last half hour and it must be by shear luck that he hadn't slipped into unconsciousness or suffocated. Sitting upright was a hard task because of the lost leverage of his legs; the weight of pressure nearly sent him into spasms from the throbbing pain in his lower extremities. Was it possible for a human being to live through such utter torture? Did his comrades endure this every battle? Questions combated his exhausted mind and threatened to overcome his mental ability to assess his body's problem. His head was beginning to bob at the loss of air and he knew that he soon would lose his sanity and enter delirium if air were not provided to his lungs.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a man enter followed by Dr. Clive. This was an unknown figure and he seemed to be criticizing Clive for his abominable care of patients. The figure seemed to be answering to Dr. Kennedy; he whirled around in an instant and rushed over to his bed in four quick strides. Kennedy's hair was auburn brown, falling in uneven strands down his forehead, held together in the back by a black band. The color of his skin was an even tan, dark yet light. Though his most prominent feature were deep blue eyes, sparkling in the light cast by the rays of sun through the upper deck. Horatio's mind gathered all this in an instant.

An instant; such an immeasurable amount of time in which anything can happen or go wrong. His wounds were the result of an instant, his pain the result of an instant; even his conception that led to this insurmountable pain was the result of an instant. He could die in an instant, this is how he would wish to die, Horatio did not want to fade into oblivion with disease, he wanted to die in action with the wind on his face and the rain battering his broad cloth.

Dr. Kennedy seemed to be talking to him now, but he could not make out words and his eyesight started to blur. The doctor was now yelling for something and seemed to be under considerable stress. Sitting on a stool nearby the doctor straitened his stock while awaiting the tools he had sent for. Twitching his neck cloth must have been a habit as a child, one that he never grew out of. Pulling the stool closer he continued to procure words from his mind that neither Hornblower could understand in his mental state, nor Clive in his ignorance.

A knife abruptly cut through the skin covering his left lung and agony tormented his brain; breathe and feel pain, or hold his breath and die. The doctor was now thrusting some peculiar instrument down his lung. Suddenly Horatio could breathe, the obstruction was gone. Pain still fought the puncture mark but the pain was welcome as long as he had avoided the ever-nearing delirium. Delirium was new, pain he was long accustomed to.

The doctor was now bandaging his sweaty chest. Kennedy gave him a look that could be interpreted as understanding or judgment clouded with concern. This look gave way to a brick wall in his mind, one that thought all human beings judged one another on the spot, the wall that was built so nobody could tell his emotion; crumbling down in pieces. This look gave Horatio theories to ponder while fighting to survive the next few hours.

His cot was only a measly four feet away at most, yet he was too weary to even bring himself to fall upon it. Hornblower's case had brought back memories from the past, reveries he did not wish to dwell upon. The young man was familiar in a sense to him, perhaps even similar. Both him and Archie couldn't stand being off to the side when they could be of service. Yet, familiar seemed more appropriate. The brown hair and ovular face, which Kennedy had seen so often before, seemed apparent in this man's features.

Archie could not bring himself to become suspicious of this poor lad of a man, not when he would be his most critical patient, not when he might enter surgery with this man alive and screaming to be let from the torture chamber he would surely be in, not when he was as familiar to him as his own son. Not when he was as similar as his own son.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Once again I am sorry for the long waiting period. I'm not exactly sure where I'm taking this so if you could press the little blue button on the bottom and lone me some of your thoughts it would be extremely helpful, thanks.**

Duty & Dignity Chapter 4

"Sir, excuse my urgency but Mr. Hornblower needs to have his bandages changed and seems to be entering delirium, he seems to respond best to you, sir."

"Yes, I will be down shortly, but please do this time administer his medication." lectured Archie to his young lob-lolly boy.

The young sick berth attendant quickly made his exit after being privately humiliated for his lack of care in requesting Archie for Mr. Hornblower and not yet having administered his medication. Though the boy was forgetful in time he would make a good doctor.

Archie made his way over to his sea chest and pulled from it his uniform coat and trousers along with a neck stock, the formalities of the navy making itself present even when he would quickly remove the coat and stock and replace it with a sick berth apron. Tightening his stock, he stared into his shard of a mirror and saw the gray lines appearing in his hair, he was no longer the young innocent boy he had been when he had been forced into the navy. Onboard medical school from his ship's doctor during his sick berth visits had been his ticket out and he became the Atropos' doctor when theirs died in battle.

Near the shard of reflective glass was a photo of his family, his long-dead wife Katherine and their son Edward, now fourteen living with their neighbors, with reimbursement from Archie's pension. The simplicity of the photo was basic, his small family in front of their old house, burned down by fire, fire that swallowed his family's innocence and took away Katherine, charred Edward's emotions, Edward being only four.

Staring into Edwards eyes he saw happiness, maybe mere contentness, but lately he only saw fear. The fear reflected in his own eyes, created by Mr. Hornblower's arrival, by their stunning similarities, and by the fact that Archie knew Edward was not his own son, being two when he and Katherine married.

If only Katherine had told him who the father had been, what had she expected to happen if she told him? Could it really be so horrible as to suppress such crucial information? Every time he asked her she spaced out, only saying that Edward would never know his father, that the father was proper but without love…only following orders and discipline.

While twitching his neck stock into place and sliding on his shoes, his lob-lolly boy returned more urgently.

"Sir, Mr. Hornblower refused the medicine."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Mr. Hornblower would not allow me to administer his medication, he said he would allow us after he talked to you, sir."

"Did he address what subject he thought we needed to talk about?" Archie replied, starting to worry.

"All he said was 'Katherine', sir."


	5. Chapter 5

Duty & Dignity Chapter 5

Mr. Hornblower could tell he had been unconscious for at least a week due to the growth of his facial hair. He seemed to remember being hit by a cannonball and then he blacked out completely until he woke up, always thinking he was on the deck of the "Lydia". Sick berth attendants kept feeding him laudanum whenever he awoke, scared to death he would enter shock when he noticed the absence of his legs.

Standing above him was a man he knew from descriptions in letters, standing tall, yet slightly worried. Every time he awoke and saw the man he always struggled for a reason to postpone telling him, he no longer had any.

Before he could procrastinate further he told the man the reason he was asked here.

"You are Archibald, Katherine's husband. Correct?"

"Yes, and you are Mr. Hornblower. How did you know my wife?" Archie asked, a rather harsh tone in his voice.

"I was her previous husband Mr. Kennedy, and Edward's biological father."

Archie seemed to pale at the news Mr. Hornblower had presented him with. Though trying hard to keep his composure. This explained the similarities in Horatio and Edward. It did not explain all but he had a growing sense of dread that Mr. Hornblower would tell him all. With this Katherine's death would be fresh in his mind for days to come as it always did.

"I don't understand."

"When I was in France I was captured, tortured for information. It was the worst two years of my life, living in a confined cell, my best friend being the occasional fly. Living without Katherine, and our child to come. Whipped every day for the fact that I wouldn't give them information of Nelson's personal logs or because I didn't know when they were next planning to dock in Bonaparte's area of reign."

"That must have been hard Horatio but I still to not understand why you wouldn't have been with Katherine after that. Can you please continue?" Archie asked.

" Yes, I will, please be patient. I was there for two years, during the third month of my captivity I received news that Katherine had birthed Edward, such a handsome boy I was told. I never wished more in my life to be able to fly and escape the thugs who kept me from my family, to simply see a picture of my baby boy. The eighth month I was there I tried to escape, to make it home, they caught me and nearly killed me. People saw the attempt and the gunshots; the news published my false death on their accounts. Mr. Kennedy, by the time I had escaped and recovered, by the time I got home four years after I had left she had already married you. Katherine was deeply in love more than she had ever been with me. I could not take that away from her Archie."

"Did she know you were alive?"

"I'm sure she found out eventually, but I could not tell her, I didn't want to put her into an impossible situation. Trust me, I wanted to take her back into my arms, wanted to hold my little Edward, but I could never do that. For her sake I couldn't do that.

I did keep track of Edward, your neighbors know I'm alive and send me letters with how he is doing, I couldn't lose two people, and in a sense now I at least have one."

Tears shown in Horatio's eyes and Archie walked over to his bedside while he leaned over and cried upon his shoulder. Every eye in sick berth was on them but neither of the men cared. Horatio's tears slowly stained their way through Archie's topcoat but he knew that he could not afford to give up the comfort that came with being able to talk about Katherine. Though he had a rising temper with his neighbors about them raising Edward to two fathers he knew it had been the right thing to do, he could not blame them.

Slowly Mr. Hornblower stopped shuddering and fell asleep on Archie's shoulder. He slowly put the sleeping form on the sick berth cot and retreated to his office. Looking back at Horatio he was reminded of Edward sleeping, always one leg…or stump in this case…poking out of the covers. It was a day like this when he wished to God he could see more of himself in his son.

When Archie reached his office he pulled off his boots and neck stock and lay upon his cot and stared off into nowhere. Not even thinking he just lay there with a growing sense of sadness overcoming him. A thought pulled him back to the land of the living and he started to weep when he realized that Edward would never have a proper father. He wept as he never had before, looking intently at a picture of Katherine and Edward. He could not fail Katherine again, not with something as important as his own son.

Four Months Later

"Are you sure about this Archie?"

"Horatio, I have never been surer about anything in my life. I can't raise him on my own; living with the neighbors is not a life I want him to live. Horatio, together we can do this, and you deserve this happiness."

Horatio knew he was right, but he still doubted.

Walking down a cobblestone street with two wooden legs was a hard task, but thirty minutes, forty curses, and five falls later they made it to Archie's house. Walking inside felt like a privilege to Horatio as Archie left to collect Edward from the neighbors.

A few minutes later Archie reappeared with a small boy in tow. Horatio felt a swell of pride rise in him as well as happiness unimaginable. It felt like forever until Edward was close enough to shake his hand, he shook it firmly like a man. Already making his father proud.

"Edward I'd like you to meet someone." Archie led on.

"This is Horatio, your biological father. I know it's confusing, but we are both going to raise you from now on, we're not going to leave you again for anything. "

Edward's face lit up once Archie said he was not leaving; he was not the only one smiling. Though he probably did not understand what Horatio was he was happy about him being here. The two men and boy smiled for what felt like forever, before finally Edward reached out and hugged both his fathers.

Archie stared at Katherine's picture that night, knowing that Horatio and himself would never let Edward down. Nor would they ever forget Katherine, and the battle of the "Marie" which led them to this moment. Their lives had changed inexplicably, in an instance, an instance never forgotten.

**Author's Note: Well loyal viewers, the story is finally over. All is well in the world of Hornblower. If you have read this since the beginning then thank you for dealing with my short chapters and long waiting periods between posting. I now hand Hornblower over to someone who can make use of the characters in new and interesting ways. Please do review though, I would like to know for future stories what you liked and disliked, so please press the inviting blue button below. Thanks. :) **


End file.
